You Will Be Found || dear evan hansen (connor x evan)

chapter nine

     Evan couldn't help but think that maybe if he was anyone else, things would be different. People wouldn't go out of their way to avoid him. They wouldn't hush their voices when he walked by. Jared would love him for who he is instead of making excuses for what he isn't. Connor would hold his hand and kiss him on the lips the way it happened in the movies. Their voices would quiet down, Evan's fingers would shake as Connor's hand pressed gently to the side of his face. They'd look into each others' eyes, finding themselves leaning forward. Evan would feel a nervous knot form in his stomach as their lips met; soft and warm like kittens. Connor's skin would press against Evan's skin in a beautiful kind of way and all he'd feel is love. 

     This would happen if Evan was anyone else but himself.

     Instead, Evan is sat rocking in the darkest corner of his room, head tucked between his legs and warm tears cascading down his cheeks. He's alone and afraid of himself and the things he's capable of. Evan struggled not to cry too loud; his mother was asleep and he didn't want anyone else to have to suffer because of him. She didn't deserve that... she works so hard just to keep things afloat and all Evan does is ask for more. He hummed, "Daddy Issues" by The Neighbourhood in desperate hopes that it would drown out the sound of the ringing in his ears. He clenched his eyes shut, whispering to himself as if it was another person. 

     The truth is that Evan would give anything for his skin to touch Connor's skin the way it happened in the movies. He'd give anything to feel like he mattered to someone, like if he disappeared someone would look for him. It hurts to think that he could go missing tomorrow and no one would notice. He wants to be noticed. He wants to be noticed more than he wants to breathe, to live, to eat. Evan truly believed in his heart that he was too shattered to be glued back together, even by Connor. Even by God himself.

     Evan rose from his spot on the flooring, slowly peeling the door open, careful not to wake his mother. She didn't deserve this, though Evan knew she would probably be better off without him anyway. Everyone would. 

     He shook sleeping pills into the palm of his hand. 

10. 

20. 

30. 

     It had to work. He wanted the pain to end not to create more of it. His hand trembled as he swallowed them, sipping tap water from the sink. Evan carefully walked to the kitchen with tears streaming down his face, grabbing a sticky note from the cabinet. He clutched a pencil in his hand and began to write.

     It isn't your fault.